


Courage

by RisuAlto



Series: Tumblr Ask Prompt Fills [5]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Kind of fluff tbh?, Link speaks, Post-Canon, Trust, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-10 04:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/pseuds/RisuAlto
Summary: Free from the Calamity, Zelda and Link travel the world together.  There are still some obstacles to climb, though.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Tumblr Ask Prompt Fills [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547980
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Courage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinyivyleaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyivyleaves/gifts).

The jump looked easy enough before Link did it—just a small leap across a missing section of the ridge with plenty of handholds and room to get a running start—but then the rocks fell away under the stress, and suddenly the gap was twice as long and also gained an element of…verticality. It was treacherous, the kind of thing that Zelda would normally have trusted Urbosa to throw her across, into Daruk’s (or sometimes Link’s, but the princess knew why that was a rare occurrence) waiting arms. 

Looking down at the four feet or so she had to build up speed, and then looking back up when she finally, finally heard the fallen rocks hit _something_ down below, Zelda felt her heart sink.

This was somewhere Link had been heartbreakingly excited to show her, a ledge that overlooked massive swaths of Hyrule from which you could catch the sunrise filtering through a distant mountain range. “A place that reminded me why you had to be here so you could see it,” Link had written in his journal when he showed it to her. And Zelda understood. The pictures Link had were beautiful, but they couldn’t capture the feeling of wind through her hair or the way the clouds changed bit by bit when the sun came up.

She had wanted to see it. But there was no way she could jump seven feet across and two feet up. Not like this.

“Link, I—” she started to say, but when she raised her head to make eye contact, she could see Link was down on his stomach, arm outstretched to her. The cool night wind whistled in silence as they stared at each other before Zelda shook her head. “I can’t,” she sighed, biting her lip in regret.

She glanced down again and saw where this mountain’s cliff face fell away into deep valleys of darkness, invisible to her eyes in such low light, and she felt her mind sinking into a similar place. Why didn’t she have the courage to go first? Link could almost certainly make this jump if the mountain had fallen away under _her_ instead.

Why did she always make the wrong choice? Why was she never enough?

“Princess.” She didn’t expect to hear it. For a moment, she thought the voice was entirely in her head, a relic of centuries past because everything else from that era was either a ruin or a ghost, but the source was definitely in front of her. “Princess,” Link said again, voice ragged from years of disuse but more confident the second time, “do you trust me?”

Oh, and wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. He sounded far too curious, far too _unsure_ of what Zelda’s answer would be, like it was completely within the realm of possibility that she would say no and back out. Even after everything that had happened…

“Yes,” Zelda found herself saying earnestly.

Link pushed himself up on the arm that wasn’t reaching towards her, not quite expecting the answer to be so quick or sincere, Zelda thought. But he laid down again and flexed his hand, nodding as if to say, _Okay. Then come on._

Zelda breathed deeply and felt confidence flush her throat, her lungs, her heart clear of that choking, inky doubt. Smile on her lips, eyes bright and open, she took a few running steps, and leapt, her arm outstretched, too.


End file.
